


i picture it, soft, and i ache

by bad_witch_energy



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Pining, Pre-Relationship, no beta we die like men, takes place right before the main events of season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25876261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bad_witch_energy/pseuds/bad_witch_energy
Summary: It’s been a month since Vanya arrived at the farm. Sissy pines.Title from “Strawberry Blond” by Mitski.
Relationships: Sissy Cooper/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 18
Kudos: 173





	i picture it, soft, and i ache

**Author's Note:**

> hey! i recently discovered that there is a HUGE lack of vanya/sissy fic in this fandom, and this inspired me to post my first fanfic in... three years? yeah, three years. 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at either queersofthelostcities or vanyas-suit !
> 
> this is dedicated to the two instagram users who said i should write this! thank you, and i hope you enjoy.

The full moon is high in the sky, glowing persistently outside Sissy’s window as if it knows all her secrets. 

Sissy is curled up in the sheets alone like a child who still fears the monsters in her closet. Carl isn’t home, electing to remain at the office (or more realistically, the bar) for a few more hours, but she knows very well that his presence wouldn’t help in this situation. After all, it’s not monsters keeping Sissy up at night, but her own traitorous thoughts, whispering things that she shouldn’t want to hear. 

The moonlight, washing the sheets and wallpaper in white, reminds Sissy of Vanya. It was the same color of the suit she wore on the day they met, and it flowed down to earth like Vanya’s hair to her shoulders, pushed by a breeze that Sissy didn’t feel. She was, in all, the image of an avenging angel from heaven, deathly beautiful and powerful in spirit. 

Vanya is still that beautiful, of course. In the daytime, she is subtly breathtaking like a waxing crescent, light pouring out of her pale expressive face and kind eyes. Sissy wants to stare into those eyes forever, wants to know what secrets they hold inside. 

She wants so much more, too, so much that it hurts to picture. Sissy is quick to place a hand on Vanya’s back or give her a hug when she gets back from errands, but Sissy wants to hold her closer, too. She wishes she had Vanya here with her, and she could trace the lines of her face with her fingertips and ask about her day. She could card her hands through Vanya’s hair and whisper sweet nonsense into her ears, making sure she knows that she’s cared for. Sissy could lay Vanya out on the bed, full and open and vulnerable, and press a sweet kiss to her lips. Then another to her jaw, and another to her neck, and again and again and again until they were both free of their burdens and could rest together in peace. 

Sissy knows this is wrong. Everything in her life has led her to that knowledge, from her mother’s stern words to the taunts of a classmate to the sound of the bells at her own wedding. She shouldn’t care about Vanya in the way that she does, and the depth that her feelings have reached in the span of just a month is bone-shakingly terrifying. Sissy needs to forget this now, go to sleep and forget that she ever loved the woman that she ran over with her stupid car. She has Carl, and that should be enough. 

But Carl isn’t here tonight, and so she doesn’t see the harm in dreaming about someone she can never have anyway. 

Sissy drifts off as the moon rises in the sky. 

***

When Sissy wakes, harsh morning sunlight streaming in through the shutters, Carl is in bed with his chest pressed to her back, snoring loudly. A wave of nausea sweeps through her body, and Sissy doesn’t know if it’s guilt from last night’s thoughts, the feeling of imprisonment she gets from being boxed in by Carl’s body, or both. She manages to wiggle out of bed, step into her slippers, and is halfway to the bedroom door when Carl rolls over to where she had just been laying. 

“Where’re ya going?” he calls out to her, voice muffled by the pillows. 

Sissy wants to stiffen up, yell Anywhere but here! and flee the house, but doesn’t. Instead, she puts on a phony, frail facade of a smile and says, “Just goin’ to make some breakfast. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

He snuffles, and extends one arm up and out. “Few more minutes. Come back. I missed you.”

She looks up at the ceiling, her heart burning with something just left of loneliness. “I’m too awake now to go back to sleep,” Sissy answers. “I think I’ve slept in long enough anyhow.”

Carl mumbles something indecipherable and rolls back over. Sissy hurries out to the kitchen, pulling open cabinets at random, hoping to find some leftover supplies for breakfast. She decides vaguely that she’ll make pancakes. Her mind is still flooded with muted panic from waking up with Carl, and isn’t prepared to hear a voice rise out of the fog and say, “Morning, Sissy.”

Sissy whips around and the spoon she’s been holding clatters to the floor. As she bends down to pick it up, she realizes belatedly that her hands have been shaking. However, they stop doing so once Sissy realizes who just greeted her. 

“Oh, good morning, Vanya!” she replies, just a little bit too loudly. “You startled me.”

Vanya smiles apologetically. She’s a sight for sore eyes; her hair is pulled back in a ponytail with a few wisps falling artfully into her face, and she wears a pale yellow button-up and worn denim jeans. Sissy can breathe again. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to.”

Sissy waves her hand around in the air. “Don’t worry about it, darling. Hey, Vanya?”

“Yeah?”

“D’you want to make pancakes with me?”

Vanya’s eyes widen momentarily, then she dips her head shyly. “I’d love to.”

The day grows brighter as the two of them scurry around the kitchen, gathering the rest of the ingredients and firing up the stove. By the time Sissy is showing Vanya what proportion of flour to milk to put in the batter, Harlan has appeared at the dining table, fiddling with a little wooden bluebird. Carl still has not reappeared, and Sissy is grateful. She feels a little sick again for feeling so grateful, but thankfully the sensation dissipates as Harlan makes a soft noise and lifts his arms, moving his hand in a vaguely circular motion. 

“Oh, you want the music on?” Vanya responds instantly, because she always understands. Harlan perks up and runs over to the player, making his hand circles more emphatic. Vanya hands Sissy the whisk, Sissy’s heart soaring when their fingertips brush together, and goes to rummage through their collection of vinyls, letting out a quiet aha! when she decides on one. 

A few moments later, classical music is flowing through the kitchen like a clear and lively summer stream. Harlan hums and sways to the fluttering notes, calm and content, and Sissy can’t help but close her eyes and do the same. It’s a bright piece full of high notes, undercut by a smooth violin melody and a thread of hope. 

On an impulse, Sissy grabs Vanya by the shoulders and whoops as she spins them around. They end up crashing into the counter with a thud, and Vanya catches herself with her arms on either side of Sissy, with Sissy pressed between her and the counter. They’re dangerously close together, and for a moment Sissy can’t quitte breathe properly. 

In the morning light, Sissy can see flecks of gold in Vanya’s big brown eyes. Her face is creased with laugh lines, her skin practically glows, and her lips are curled into a gentle grin. Sissy wants to kiss her, but she doesn’t. Instead, she bursts into laughter, and Vanya quickly follows suit. 

Sissy is stupidly thankful for this. It’s just a moment, yes, and will likely soon fade into the depths of her memory, but here in the kitchen, with beautiful music and the smell of pancake batter suffusing the air, Sissy’s heart feels like it’ll explode with joy. 

Even if Sissy can’t have Vanya in the way that she dreams of, this is good enough for her.


End file.
